The Cage
by The Biz
Summary: It's a Father Ted fic. Only chapter one is up...er...it's about an old friend of Dougal's and um, she has a bad husband.


Disclaimer: I don't own Father Ted. I don't own Dougal, although I wish I did damn it! Oh and yeah I don't own Mrs. Doyle either. The song used is "The Cage" by Travis and that isn't mine either! Although it is a lovely song and I'd lurve to own it. So don't get on my arse, because I'm living with my parents right now okay.  
  
The Cage  
  
Quite unsure if I should actually make the final movement across the stones, and to the door, I touched my lip that still carried the shards of a love I believed would last. A man, I thought would share the love that overwhelmed my body, in the early morning hours of churning bodies, and crushing skin. Yet, it didn't last, and before I could rekindle the thoughts, and make sense of each one, I found my hands clenched in fists pounding the wooden door to his dwelling. It was a wet night, full of rains, a stoppage time, rains, wind, stoppage once more, and a down pour that would most likely leave the grass sopping the next morning. By my third knock, I half expected no answer in the hour passed midnight, but soon footsteps marked a presence moving in the direction of the door.  
  
A man, quite a bit taller than myself stood in front of me, lips pressed together, furrowed face, small breaths that hung momentarily in the air before slinking off.  
  
"Maddy." A statement. A thought not yet completed.  
  
"Is Dougal in?"  
  
He stepped aside, leading me into the warmth and safe keeping of their home.  
  
"You broke the bread  
  
We drank the wine  
  
Your lip was bleeding but it was fine  
  
Come on inside, babe, across the line  
  
I love you more than I..."  
  
  
  
"Tea Father? Oh. Mad-" Another fragmented thought, this time by Mrs. Doyle, the house keeper, as she made her way around to us. Mrs. Doyle always spoke with great fervency in her voice, never failing to bat her eyes, or slightly touching whomever was listening.  
  
"Um, Mrs. Doyle, would you mind retrieving Dougal?" Ted asked, perhaps seeking time alone with me. She agreed politely, and quietly made her way to the staircase. When her footsteps became distant, Ted inched his way across the sofa next to me.  
  
"Maddy, tell me what happened? Did he hit you?" He emphasized "he" with tones of accusation. A tone I could not deny.  
  
"He hit me, yes."  
  
"How many times?"  
  
"I can't recall."  
  
"More than twice?"  
  
"Yes,"  
  
"I'm calling the-"  
  
"No Ted, it's no use."  
  
I froze, caught his glance at the staircase, drowned in lovely memory, caught myself, breathed, dropped.  
  
"Maddy?"  
  
People often referred to Dougal as the dumb priest. The absent minded young lad, whom often didn't have a clue to what was going on. But, Dougal had something that even some of the greatest intellects of the world lacked. That was compassion, and love, security, and faithfulness. We'd been friends for years, and then.well he went off to do his priest thing, and I got married to Ethan. It was a loveless marriage since, I was the only one who believed in love. That's never good for anybody, and I soon realized that as the beating began. I never told him. Never told Dougal that is, until he began to notice, and then I explained everything, and once again our friendship was rekindled by a weak ember.  
  
Now Dougal made his way down the stairs, arms stretched out, face flustered with hurt.  
  
"Dougal.I'm so sorry." I sobbed, stood up, collapsed once more on the coach, then felt a warmth pressing atop my body, arms curling around my waist, his face buried in the crook of my neck. Security and comfort and the reoccurrence of painful memories.  
  
"Don't apologize to me. Don't ever apologize to me." He whispered, sobbing to the rhythm of my own tears.  
  
Ted had managed to excuse himself amidst the cries, and strokes, and silent apologies from both parties, and was quietly moving around above us.  
  
"Stay here tonight okay? Ted will set you up nicely, or I'll stay with you tonight, if you let me."  
  
I nodded in agreement, wiped my nose, and dabbed my lip quietly with the sleeve of my shirt.  
  
"Let's clean you up first though." My sobs had droned into a silent whimper between tears by now. I took Dougal's hand and crept quietly up the stairs behind him.  
  
The hall appeared much shorter than it had on my last visit, though I suppose I had aged a bit, and it seemed they had added more furniture in vacant corners with dim lighting. The bathroom looked smaller as well, and it seemed we had to be careful where we stepped as to avoid contact.  
  
My clothes dripped rhythmically against the linoleum, as Dougal prepared a washcloth and ointment.  
  
"Here let me help you out of that first." He offered, pealing the damp cotton over my head and placing it gently onto the back of the bathtub. "He hurt you there as well." Dougal motioned towards two fresh wounds and a bruise slightly above my right breast.  
  
"Yes, it's a favorite area to inflict pain. I don't understand why, it's not like my boobs are big or anything." We shared a laugh. Like old times. He realized it. I realized it. We both froze.  
  
"Um, may I clean it, or would you pre-"  
  
"No, it's alright you go ahead. I trust you."  
  
"Oh, right then." A sheepish grin, and then a dab of the ointment. I drew back when a burning feeling reached my chest, and bounced through my body, before I was able to release a light yelp. "Sorry."  
  
"Gentle.like this." I took the hand that had already found a safe haven on my chest, and guided it slowly around the cut, dabbing the blood away, and then releasing.  
  
"Right then." With that finished, Dougal handed me his green Football jersey, and a pair of his Rubber Duck Pajama Pants, and I changed awkwardly as he stood not facing me. It was strange, and yet oh so familiar. 


End file.
